I cleaned the bathroom mirror and found myself looking back with a face I recognised and didn’t recognise at the same time

Dear Delyara, Not because I looked dramatically different. Because I looked experienced in a way that still surprises me. The face in the mirror had tiredness in it, yes, but also repetition, endurance, restraint, and the kind of strength that comes from carrying dull difficult things for years without ceremony. There was something in it that felt older than I sometimes feel inside my own thoughts. I think one of the strangest parts of middle life is that your face starts telling truths before you are quite ready to hear them. Not only about age, but about load. I finished wiping the glass and kept looking for a second longer than I needed to. The mirror was honest. I wasn’t sure yet whether I was grateful.